The Lion in the Sett
by alatariel-gildaen
Summary: Peeta & Ron first meet on the night before the second Triwizard Task, striking up a tentative friendship. Over the course of the second Wizarding War, they overcome house rivalries and personal tragedies. Everlark and Romione. Cover by Ro Nordmann.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - Hi, and welcome to a new WIP!**

**This idea was born out of a review of Mockingjay Pt 1 in _Time _which described Peeta as 'the Ron Weasley of the series.' Now, if he'd gone on to compare both characters' quick wit, bravery and loyalty, how they are generally amongst the most relatable characters in their respective series, and how the main protagonists of the stories woud never have survived without them, then yes, I would have agreed. But instead, the reviewer went on to describe him as 'a pasty earnest bore,' and is someone whom we only like for 'callow valour and a run of bad luck.'  
**

**No. Just... No. **

**You don't make a comparison between my two favourite characters in my two favourite series, and make that comparison as a _derogatory _comment, and not expect fandoms to get cross! And so, in true fandom style, I took my annoyance out in writing a friendship story between our two heroes! This was originally supposed to be a drabble, but I kept getting more and more ideas, and this will now be a WIP in 6 parts. **

**HUGE thanks go to titania522 (ct522) for betaing this for me, and to Ro Nordmann for the stunning cover. Thank you both so much!**

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_23rd February 1995_

He was definitely in trouble this time. And he knew all of his friends would blame it on Katniss. Never mind that they had been friends forever, since before he had even found out that he was a wizard. Never mind that hewas the first to find out how to open the secret doorway to the kitchens, and that _he_ had suggested meeting her there tonight to take his mind away from the fact his other best mate would be competing in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament the following day. Katniss was in Slytherin, and therefore, according to the rest of his Hufflepuff classmates, she was nothing but a stab in the back waiting to happen.

He had already made several batches of iced sugar cookies and had been showing some of the house elves his personal favourite non-magical techniques for decorating cupcakes, while Katniss had been perched on the edge of the enormous table that would be directly below the Slytherin table above, delighting in the piles of food that kept getting shoved her way.

He had been delicately piping a pale yellow lemon-scented rose onto a vanilla cupcake when a sudden loud cough made him jump and squeeze the piping bag too hard, causing the perfect rose to erupt in a sweet, sticky mess.

"Been looking for you everywhere, Mr Mellark. You need to come with me." Peeta had gaped at his Head of House for a moment. He had never seen the jovial Professor look so serious. But then, he had never been caught so flagrantly breaking the rules before. Turning to Katniss, she then said in an equally serious tone, "Miss Everdeen, I'm certain you won't want Professor Snape to have to talk to you about sneaking out of the Slytherin dormitories after nightfall. Head straight back to your common room, if you would."

Katniss had jumped down from the table and walked past him in silence, giving his hand a light squeeze as she did so. The gesture was so comforting and reassuring that for a moment Peeta had forgotten the amount of trouble he was sure to be in.

But as Professor Sprout marched him out of the kitchens, his nerves returned tenfold. How she had found out where they were, he didn't know. Maybe one of Katniss' classmates had sold them out. Maybe one of his own friends? The idea made him feel even worse…

Instead of heading directly back to the nearby Hufflepuff Basement, Professor Sprout led him up several staircases, further and further away from the comfort of his common room, when an even more unnerving thought struck him. She was surely taking him directly to the headmaster.

His suspicions were confirmed when they stopped in front of a gargoyle on the third floor. "Liquorice Wand!" said Professor Sprout to the gargoyle, who immediately sprang to life and jumped to one side, revealing a moving spiral staircase behind.

"Professor, I'm really sorry," said Peeta, sensing that this was his last chance to defend himself. Knowing that he needed to protect Katniss as well, he added, "And you should know, that was the first time that Katniss had come down there with me. And I promise she didn't see how to get in, so she won't be able to go back. And—"

"You can stop with that right now, Peeta," said Professor Sprout, not unkindly. "You're not the first of my pupils to find a way in to the kitchens and you won't be the last." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "This way, then."

Her reaction was unexpected, but he didn't seem to be in trouble, or at least, not _too _much trouble, and so he took a deep breath of his own and allowed himself to be guided onto the moving staircase.

At the top of the stairs, Professor Sprout knocked on a huge oak double door. The headmaster himself opened it and stood back to allow Peeta and Professor Sprout entry. "Albus," nodded Professor Sprout towards the headmaster, as she ushered Peeta inside.

Peeta looked around in awe at the incredible room, his nerves temporarily forgotten. Even after six and a half years of being in the magical world, there were still things that could take his breath away, and the headmaster's circular office, with its delicate, spindly, whirring instruments and the countless portraits of previous headmasters looking over them, was certainly one of them.

"Well, we're all here now," said Professor Dumbledore. "But before we begin, can I offer you a tea, Mr Mellark?"

Peeta's attention was drawn back to the occupants of the room, and for the first time he realised that he was not alone. As well as Professor Dumbledore and Professor Sprout, Professor McGonagall was hovering over two of her pupils, looking as stern as ever. Peeta recognised the two as Harry Potter's closest friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Professor Karkaroff was leaning against a wall, his arms folded closely across his chest, surveying the room, while Madame Maxime was fussing over a young girl, speaking to her in rapid French. Professor Moody lurked in the shadows, his strange blue eye constantly whizzing and surveying everyone.

He was temporarily taken aback by being offered tea by the headmaster, who had never once spoken to him directly. "Umm..."

"We're all having tea, and I wouldn't want you to feel like you were missing out," added Dumbledore, indicating a large, squashy armchair.

Peeta lowered himself into the seat, feeling all eyes on him. "Yes. Thank you," he said. "Milk and no sugar. Thank you."

A delicate china pot with a matching cup and saucer appeared in mid-air in front of him, pouring the tea. Peeta reached out and took the floating cup and saucer, perching it on the arm-rest of his chair.

"Would you like a biscuit to go with that? Or a cupcake perhaps?" asked Dumbledore. He waved his wand and a tray carrying the very cookies and cupcakes that Peeta had made hovered in the air in front of him. The headmaster's eyes twinkled, and Peeta felt as if he were being x-rayed, when Dumbledore said, "I must say, the house-elves do seem to have outdone themselves tonight. I can't recall the last time I ate anything quite so delicious."

His cheeks flushed deep red as he took one of the iced cookies from the tray. "Thank you," he mumbled. It was a strange situation, but he certainly didn't feel anymore as if he were about to get expelled. Or even detention.

"Well, to business, then," said Dumbledore. "I'm not about to pretend that none of you have an inkling as to what your friends or family are facing in the Second Triwizard Task tomorrow. I'm certain many of you have even offered as much help to your friends as possible."

'_Shit',_ he thought desperately, as his stomach lurched uncomfortably. '_Shit, shit, shit'. _This wasn't about getting caught in the kitchens sneaking extra food. This was about cheating in a major international tournament. Of course he'd helped Cedric with the egg clue. How could he not? They'd sat up together until the early hours of the morning researching ways to survive underwater. And he'd been helping Cedric practice the Bubble-Head charm all week. He glanced over towards Ron and Hermione who looked equally as guilty. They must have been caught helping Potter. The only anomaly was the young girl—how could she possibly have been helping Fleur with the clue? And no wonder Karkaroff looked so furious… Krum must have been the only person working as the tournament intended…

"And I thank you for the help you have offered so far, but we will require one more piece of assistance from you all. The Champions all have an hour to find something that has been taken from them, something that they will miss the most." Dumbledore looked over the edge of his spectacles at everyone, while at the same time, Hermione Granger gasped.

"You mean…?" she asked.

"Quite right, Miss Granger, astute as always. The Champions will be searching for you."

"For us?" said Ron.

"That's correct, Mr Weasley."

He could see Madame Maxime translating everything to the young girl, whom he presumed must be Fleur's sister, trying to keep the small girl calm.

Meanwhile, he was not doing a great job of keeping himself calm. Peeta felt a suffocating pressure on his lungs. Yes, he'd been helping Cedric learn how to perform the Bubble-Head. But he hadn't been learning it himself. And there was yet another pressing matter that needed to be addressed.

"But I can't swim," he admitted in a panic, thinking about the depth and breadth of the great lake.

"None of you need to be able to. You will all be placed under an enchanted sleep, and will not wake until you come above the surface of the water. I will perform the spell myself, and I assure you, you will all be quite safe."

"But… the rhyme…" said Ron, dawning horror apparent in his voice.

The words drifted through Peeta's mind: _But past an hour, the prospect's black, Too late, it's gone, it won't come back… _If they weren't found within the hour time limit…

"Honestly, Mr Weasley, I sometimes wonder if you have the wit you were born with," snapped McGonagall. "I would hope you would realise not to take the rhyme so seriously. As if we would allow any of you to die!"

Ron shrunk in his chair, the tips of his ears going visibly pinker, and Peeta felt an endearing gratitude towards Ron for voicing his concerns first, and offered the younger lad an encouraging smile.

In something of a huff, Ron took a large, appreciative bite out of one of the cupcakes. "'Ang abou —" he said thickly through the mouthful of frosting. "Oos Krum lookin for?" He swallowed, thankfully clearing his mouth before continuing. "Harry's looking for us, pretty boy's going for his twin over there, Fleur's s searching for her sister… What about Krum? Has he been disqualified?" he added hopefully.

The slight against him stung somewhat, particularly given his earlier feeling of gratitude. And as such, he couldn't help but feel a slight sense of satisfaction at Ron's reaction, when Dumbledore said, "Mr Krum will be coming for Miss Granger, of course."

Ron's jaw dropped, while beside him a pink tinge crept across Hermione's cheeks. "What?" he demanded. "That's not right!"

"Ron, please d—"

"No! What d'you mean, she's the thing he'll miss the most. He barely knows her!"

"Ron!" Hermione whispered, and Peeta couldn't help but notice how her eyes glistened slightly. Clearly there was some latent jealousy at work here.

"Anyway," said Peeta, trying to draw attention away from the feuding friends to save their embarrassment. "What do you need us to do? Do we come back here tomorrow morning?"

"Ah," said Dumbledore. "I'm afraid I am unable to send you back to your respective dormitories. I think our Champions already know quite enough about what they are going to face tomorrow. We can't allow them to know _too _much more, now can we? No, you will be staying in a temporary dormitory here instead. Boys to one room, girls in another, naturally. And in the morning we can all dine together before you'll be placed into the enchanted sleep and whisked down to the bottom of the lake," he finished, beaming widely.

He said it so nonchalantly, as if being placed in a strange sleep-state and left alone at the bottom of a huge lake full of mermaids, grindylows, a giant squid, and goodness only knows what else was akin to a Sunday walk in the park.

"Well, it's sure to be a busy day tomorrow, so I suggest you get some _natural_ rest while you still can. Any questions?"

"Do we get a choice in this?" asked Ron.

Dumbledore's smile widened even further. "Not at all," he answered. "Now, to bed, all of you." He pointed his wand towards one wall, and two doors immediately appeared. "Gentleman on the left, ladies to the right, please."

Madame Maxime led the small girl towards the dorm, chattering away in French. Rubbing her eyes, Hermione said, "Good night everyone," before she stood up and walked towards the right-hand door.

"Say hello to _Victor _tomorrow," said Ron, staring straight ahead.

Hermione paused for the briefest of seconds, visibly lifted her chin slightly higher, and continued towards her temporary dorm. As soon as the door closed, Ron stood up and stormed towards the boys' dorm, grabbing the plate of Peeta's cookies on the way past.

There was an awkward silence in the Headmaster's office for a few moments, broken by Dumbledore's words. "Shakespeare said it best. _The course of true love never did run smooth._" He chuckled to himself, and the words resonated deeply with Peeta. He and Katniss had been close since childhood; it was Katniss who had first told Peeta that the strange things he could do meant that he was a wizard; it was Katniss who stole her mother's bruise paste every time Peeta's uncontrolled magic burst out of him, and his mother retaliated violently; and it was Katniss who comforted him on the train on their first day of school, when Peeta's mother had told him that if he continued on this path, he'd end up dead, and rightfully so.

And in the past couple of years, Peeta couldn't help but notice how beautiful his friend was becoming. If only he had the courage to act on his burgeoning feelings... They had gone to the Yule Ball together, but she had made it very clear that they were going as friends, nothing more, because she was concerned that Gale Hawthorne, another childhood friend of hers, was going to ask her out, and she wanted a perfect, ready-made excuse to say no. And Peeta had agreed to the charade, despite the fact that he had secretly wanted so much more…But like Shakespeare's eponymous lovers, the fact that they were in different houses had not made the course of their friendship run easy; most of his classmates, bar Cedric, were convinced Katniss would prove to be a Dark witch, and most of Katniss' classmates were repelled by his Muggleborn status. Dumbledore's words, while clearly intended to be about Ron and Hermione, were quite an unexpected comfort.

When Peeta looked up, he was quite disconcerted to see that the Headmaster's piercing gaze was fixed upon him, a tiny half-smile pulling up the corners of his lips, and Peeta felt his face flood with colour. Was Dumbledore insinuating more than it first seemed?

"Thank you again for the cakes, Mr Mellark," said Dumbledore, reaching for another. "They really are quite remarkable."

"You're welcome, sir," mumbled Peeta as he turned an even brighter shade of scarlet. "Umm… If there's any left, can they please get sent down to the Common Room? It's just that I promised my friends and— "

"I'll see to it." Everyone looked up as Madame Maxime returned to the office. "Now, we have a few things that need to be discussed, and I'm quite sure you need your rest. Any questions you have can be answered in the morning. Good night, Mr Mellark."

Peeta nodded and slowly walked towards the dorm. He was not looking forward to spending an entire night with someone in such a bad mood as Ron. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the wooden door open and spied the boy sitting on one of the beds, angrily munching on an iced cookie.

"Hey," said Peeta, closing the door behind him.

Ron looked up momentarily, and then returned his attention to the plate. "Don't feel like you need to make conversation with me," he said. "Feel free to go straight to sleep. I promise I won't think any less of you."

"Ok," said Peeta, taken aback. "Yeah, we could sit here in an awkward silence. Sounds like a lot of fun to me. Or we could talk. I reckon it'll make the time pass faster."

"Look, mate," said Ron, still not looking up at him. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really don't want anything to do with you." He took another large bite of a cookie, and made a small, appreciative groan.

"Fair enough," said Peeta, taking out his wand. He pointed it at the plate and muttered, "_Accio,"_ sending the remaining cookies zooming into his left hand.

"What the hell?" complained Ron, as Peeta sat down on the edge of his bed, kicked off his shoes and put his feet up.

"You don't want anything to do with me," shrugged Peeta as he selected an iced cookie. The one he had decorated with katniss flowers was still there and intact. He smiled to himself before taking a small bite. "And as I made these, I figured that request probably extended to them as well."

"You didn't make them," said Ron, a frown creasing his brow.

Peeta shrugged once again, taking another bite of the cookie. Not bad, but he really should have added cinnamon to the dough…

"I said you didn't make them," repeated Ron. "Did you?"

Peeta nodded as he finished the last bite, before he selected another, this one decorated with lavender. He didn't really want another, but if making the younger boy jealous meant that he wouldn't be spending the evening sitting in an uncomfortable silence then he reasoned that it was worth it.

"How?" demanded Ron.

"Pretty simple. Flour, sugar, butter—"

"That's not… I mean… How?"

"Our Common Room is right by the kitchens. I've been sneaking in there to bake for years."

"Why?"

Peeta shrugged once again. "We all need a way to relax, right? Some people play Quidditch, some people play Gobstones, some people read, some people play chess… I bake. I always have done."

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "Can I have another?"

Peeta nodded and smiled, handing the remaining stack of cookies back to his room-mate. Ron selected one at random and took a bite. "They're really good," he said, almost absent-mindedly.

"Thanks. Got to be good at something, I suppose."

"You're pretty good at Quidditch."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably on the bed for a moment. "You were on the team last year, right? You nearly had Harry off his broom several times."

Peeta thought back to the opening match the year before and shuddered. He'd made it onto the team for the first time, and after that match against Gryffindor, he'd retired straight away. Yes, they'd won, yes, he'd played a strong game, but… he recalled the Dementors at the match; the dreadful, suffocating cold that had penetrated his lungs at their arrival; his mother's hateful words echoing through his mind; the physical pain of every single time she had struck him. He'd managed to land safely, but only just, barely aware that Potter had fallen from a great height, and that Cedric had won the match for them.

Madame Pomfrey treated him with chocolate and sent him on his way, but he couldn't quite forget that terrifying feeling, nor could he help associating that feeling with the game itself. He felt nothing but relief that Cedric hadn't managed to secure a rematch, for it meant that the team would have time to find and train a new Beater.

"Yeah," said Peeta slowly. "It… wasn't really for me."

"Really? I'd love to be on the team one day. I mean, the pressure's already on, most of my family have been on the Gryffindor team, and everyone kind of expects it of me, but—"

"It is what _you_ want, right? Not just what you think everyone _else_ wants?"

Ron looked at Peeta incredulously. "Yes, it's what I want," he snapped

"I didn't mean to offend you," said Peeta. "I'm sorry." There was a loud screech as a huge owl flew past the window, attracting both boys' attention. "Must be hard, though. Growing up with so much expectation on you."

Ron fell silent. "I guess so," he said eventually.

"It's bad enough for me," added Peeta. "I've got two older brothers, and even now my folks keep expecting me to 'give up this magic phase' and come and work for the family business, like they do."

"They're wizards too?"

"No. Just me. So they have all these expectations that after my education I'm going to come home and live like a Muggle, but how can I, knowing what I know now?"

"Sounds tough," said Ron. "But try having five older brothers who have all been really successful in the world you're living in, knowing that you have those expectations piled on you, not just from your family, but from all your teachers as well."

Peeta chuckled quietly. "And then you go and make best friends with the most famous wizard around, and a genius as well? Sounds like you're a glutton for punishment." He withered slightly under the glare that Ron shot him. "I'm sorry, mate. I'm just kidding," he said, holding his hands up placatingly. "Anyway, I'm hardly one to talk about being overshadowed by my best mates."

The hint of a smile crossed Ron's face, as he tucked into the final cookie. "I'm sure it's not that bad. Besides, anyone who can cook like this has to be ok in my book."

"Thanks," smiled Peeta. "Maybe if I can convince the board of governors to introduce baking as a NEWT, I'll end up with some decent qualifications after all."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad. You're still here. I doubt I'll be allowed to stay on after my OWLs. Unless they let me copy Hermione."

"Yeah. It's always handy having a mate who can help you out. And if they're easy on the eyes too… So much the better."

"What are you saying about Hermione?"

"What?" said Peeta, feigning innocence. "I was talking about my friend, Katniss. I'd never have got into NEWT Potions or Transfiguration without her help. And, well… studying isn't so much of a chore if you've got someone nice to look at, am I right?"

Instead of answering directly, Ron looked out of the window. "Hermione's a really good study partner," he said quietly, gazing into the far distance. He suddenly shook himself, and was back in the room. "What's Cedric doing tomorrow to get you out, then?"

His impending fate hit him like a ton of bricks. Despite Dumbledore's reassurances that they would all be perfectly safe, Peeta couldn't help but worry. The idea of being at the bottom of that cold, vast lake, asleep, unable to move, unable to defend himself at all…He shuddered slightly, hoping that Ron hadn't noticed. "I don't suppose it matters telling you at this stage," he said. "He's doing the Bubble-Head Charm. Hardly original, I know, but it works, at least."

"The what?" asked Ron.

"Bubble-Head. You know, it creates an air bubble around your head that holds even under water. I mean, I know that's not what it was created for. Apparently, Wilbur Locksworthy originally created it so he could always have a supply of fresh, clean air when he visited his infirm mother in hospital, as of course hospitals weren't as sterile back then as they are now, but the fact that it works under water is ideal for the purposes of the task. I'd think that's probably what everyone will be doing, won't it?"

"Maybe," said Ron, looking decidedly green-skinned all of a sudden. It struck Peeta that despite all their best efforts, maybe the three fourth-year students hadn't actually found a solution to the under water problem.

"What's Harry doing?" he asked delicately.

"Probably that….bubble….thing," said Ron, looking even more panicked than before.

"I'm sure whatever he does, he'll be ok," said Peeta.

"Yeah, of course he'll be _ok. _Dumbledore's looking out for us. He's not gonna let us get hurt, and he's not gonna let them get hurt either. It's just… I want Harry to win."

"Of course you do. But there's no shame in not winning."

"Spoken like a true Hufflepuff."

"Spoken like a true realist, I think you'll find. He's entered a competition designed to put the abilities of witches and wizards three years older than him to the limit. And I admit, he did phenomenally in the first task. But—"

"How many times do we have to tell you people before you listen?" shouted Ron. Angry red splotches coloured his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Harry _didn't_ enter. Someone's trying to hurt him!"

"Ok, ok," said Peeta. He'd forgotten who he was speaking to for a moment. He had indeed heard the young Gryffindors' theory that someone else had entered Harry's name into the Goblet. Some of his classmates had dismissed the idea entirely, convinced that Harry had entered himself. Peeta didn't know what to think. He couldn't see any reason why someone else would enter Harry's name, nor how they could have done it under Dumbledore's nose, and equally he couldn't see how Harry could have possibly convinced the Goblet that he was either old enough or that Hogwarts was allowed two champions. "But like you said, Dumbledore's not going to let anyone get hurt, so if he loses, no harm done, and he can't be ashamed at not knowing what he hasn't learned yet." He chuckled to himself. "If it was me in the tournament, the best I could hope for would be to die as myself, and not make a complete fool out of myself in the process. So he's already one up on me."

Ron shifted uncomfortably for a second or two. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Sorry if I'm snapping. It's just—"

"I know," said Peeta. "You're worried. Me too."

"It's not just Harry," admitted Ron. "Hermione's my best friend too, and she's…" He trailed off, and suddenly became very interested in picking at a piece of loose cotton on the duvet cover.

"She'll be perfectly fine," assured Peeta.

"Yeah. With _Victor."_

"I'm pretty sure she's as surprised at being deemed the person he's most likely to miss as you are. I mean, look at Fleur. They were able to bring someone over for her from France. Couldn't they get someone from home for him, too? Maybe he doesn't have many friends. Maybe there simply wasn't anyone else for him. If you think about it, it's quite sad, really."

"Yeah," said Ron, a slight smile crossing his face. "It _is _sad." He looked up and made eye contact with Peeta. "Thanks," he said, his grin widening.

"No problem."

"Look… Good luck for tomorrow. Don't get me wrong. I still want Harry to win. But… I guess it wouldn't be so bad if it's a Hogwarts victory at least."

"You too."

Ron reached under his pillow and pulled out a neatly folded pair of red tartan pyjamas, then stood up and walked towards the adjacent bathroom. Peeta lay back on the bed, folding his hands behind his head, when he heard another loud screech at the window. A handsome tawny owl was perched on the windowsill, scratching at the window to get in. He quickly opened the window, and the owl flew inside, circling the room once, before dropping a sealed letter on Peeta's bed, and flying straight back outside into the night air.

Peeta quickly tore the envelope open, immediately recognising the neat cursive on the envelope as Katniss' handwriting.

_Really missed you tonight. Hope you're ok and not in too much trouble. I nearly got caught by Professor Snape on my way back in! That won't stop me going out again to send this to you though. _

_I know you've been worried, but I just wanted to let you know that whatever happens tomorrow, he'll be ok! And I'm putting in a special request_—_chocolate orange cupcakes please. You can make them for me tomorrow night. Just because I'm right and I didn't get any of them tonight, and I'm a really good friend for making you feel better._

_Give Prim a hug from me, and tell her that her sister loves her._

_Sleep well, and see you in the morning_

_K xxx_

He re-read the letter several times, beaming widely, then folded the letter up and neatly tucked it into his robes. The evening was turning out to be better than expected, after all.

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**A/N - Thanks for reading, please do leave a review, and come say hi on tumblr - username alatarielgildaen :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Thank you for reading, folks! Hope you enjoy this second installment. So...I should warn you - this chapter contains a character death. But, to be honest, if you've read Harry Potter, it's not exactly unexpected...:\**_  
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**Anyway, huge thanks to Titania522/ct522 for betaing this for me, to Ro Nordmann for the banner, and to xthegirlwithkaleidoscopeeyesx for her unending Potter expertise! You are all beautiful people!**

**Some of the dialogue is taken straight from Goblet of Fire, so many thanks to JK Rowling for her input into this fic as well!**

**Please do leave a review, and come say hello on tumblr :)**

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_**24**__**th**__** June 1995**_

"He'll be fine."

"Ok."

"Peeta, are you even listening to me? I swear you're worrying more than he is!"

"Ok, Katniss! I'll just be grateful when he's won and it's over, that's all."

The Quidditch stadium was completely unrecognisable, with the vast hedge maze that had been grown over the grounds. He and Katniss made their way up into the stands and picked through the crowds, trying to find a decent spot. As they edged their way past a group of giggling Ravenclaw third years, Katniss added, "What would you have done if I'd been old enough to enter?"

Peeta shot her a dark look. "Don't. If you'd been taking part in this, I'd have done everything I could to volunteer in your place. Or at least alongside you."

They finally came across a relatively empty block of seats, and sat down together. "Really?" asked Katniss. "You'd throw yourself in the firing line to protect me?"

"Hell, yes," he answered fervently. "A thousand times over."

Katniss fell silent as she gazed into the middle distance. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely audible over the noise from the stadium.

Her grey eyes reflected the red, orange and yellow of the last of the sunset, making her look as if she were filled with fire. Peeta had never seen anyone so beautiful, so radiant, and he wanted desperately to tell her, to admit his feelings. He opened his mouth, hoping that the right words would follow, when a massive cheer erupted around the stadium, followed shortly after by a magically magnified voice.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, on eighty-five points each—Mr Ceddric Diggory and Mr Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!"

Peeta and Katniss cheered along with the rest of the stadium, and the noise was almost deafening.

"In second place, on eighty points—Mr Victor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute! And in third place—Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy! So…on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three…two…one…"

A whistle blew, echoing all around the stadium, and at that moment, both Cedric and Harry ran towards the maze, disappearing moments later.

The stadium held its collective breath, the seconds dragging past until a second whistle blew, and Krum ran towards the maze. All eyes fell on Fleur, the lone Champion waiting for her turn, chomping at the bit to be allowed to enter the maze. At long last, the final whistle blew, and Fleur stormed towards the entrance.

The second she vanished, the dim light of dusk was illuminated by the brightest, most elaborate fireworks that Peeta had ever seen. Beside him, Katniss shifted very slightly in her seat, leaning her head against his shoulder. He reminded himself that she only sat that way so she could comfortably watch the fireworks without straining her neck, but he still wanted to place his arm around her and pull her closer. He resisted the urge with all his might, not wanting to do anything that would disturb her.

Slowly, tentatively, hoping with all of his being that she wouldn't move, Peeta tilted his own head to gently rest against hers. He let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes momentarily, the flashes from the fireworks still visible through his eyelids.

"I don't know why we couldn't stay down there, with my family," said an annoyed, familiar voice.

"Because we'll get a far better view of the entertainment from up here."

"Yeah, but I wanted to be right there when Harry wins."

"Oh, Ron. I'm sure he'll be far too busy accepting his prize from the Minister for Magic to notice us."

Peeta half-opened his eyes, and could see Ron and Hermione heading towards them, Hermione in the lead.

"He'll want to see us first."

"But in the meantime, if we're down there we'll miss most of the entertainment. We don't know how long this will take, so we may as well enjoy ourselves in the meantime."

"Besides," interrupted Peeta, a wide grin on his face. "He's not going to win anyway. Cedric is."

Both Ron and Hermione looked up sharply, ready to defend their friend, but relaxed somewhat when they saw who had spoken.

"We'll see," said Ron.

Katniss sat up a little straighter, and Peeta immediately felt the absence of her warm weight. "This is Katniss, by the way. Katniss—this is Ron, Hermione. We all enjoy hanging out at the bottom of lakes together."

Both the young Gryffindors looked at Katniss suspiciously, and Peeta felt Katniss wither slightly under their stares.

"She's my best friend," he added.

"Pleased to meet you," said Hermione after just a moment's hesitation, inclining her head ever so slightly towards Katniss.

"You too," said Katniss, in an oddly formal voice.

Peeta took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The hostility between Gryffindor and Slytherin was well known, but he'd never seen the point of automatically disliking someone he'd never even spoken to before. But he didn't want to draw any attention to the tension in the air; acknowledging it would only make Katniss feel worse. If they could all just get to know each other, the air would be cleared. "Are you going to sit with us?" he asked lightly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron shrugged subtly before taking a seat next to Peeta. No sooner had the two of them sat down, then a loud flash of light erupted around the stadium. Incredible fireworks flashed and banged every few seconds, and Katniss once again rested her head on Peeta's shoulder.

A terrifying screech from behind them caught their attention, and everyone in the stadium turned. Several people screamed. Speeding towards them at breakneck velocity, accompanied by twelve witches and wizards each, were the dragons from the first task, all flying in formation.

They tumbled and turned, twisted and soared, each dragon with their twelve handlers creating an intricate dance routine, and the audience cheered and whooped with every spectacular move.

Without disturbing the girl on his shoulder, Peeta opened a paper bag and withdrew a chocolate cookie, handing it to her, and taking a cinnamon one for himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ron eyeing the bag, and silently passed the remaining cookies to him.

"You sure?" Ron asked.

Peeta nodded. "Go ahead."

"Cheers, mate," he enthused, digging in with gusto.

They hadn't been sat together for long, before Peeta heard a familiar drawling voice. His stomach dropped as he heard Cato Hadley say, "Typical. All the good seats have been taken."

He dropped down slightly in his seat, hoping that Cato wouldn't spot him. Ever since their first week at Hogwarts, Cato had taken a severe dislike to him. During their first charms lesson—the first lesson that Hufflepuff had shared with Slytherin—Cato had realised that he was Muggleborn. That would have made him a prime target in Cato's eyes as it was, but his pre-existing friendship with Katniss compounded Cato's dislike. And then, to make matters worse, during that first lesson Flitwick had greatly praised Peeta's wandwork, while criticising Cato's. Cato had taken the slight very personally, and had sought out every opportunity since to make Peeta's life miserable.

"There are still some seats in the stands nearest the changing rooms," came another voice. It belonged to Marvel Renard, Cato's closest friend.

_Go,_ thought Peeta desperately. _Please, go…_

"Wait a minute," said Cato. Peeta could hear the cruel smirk in his voice, and he sank down even further in his seat. "You go on ahead. I'll catch up."

He grit his teeth, waiting for the inevitable taunt, as he heard footsteps behind him. Predictably enough, it came just moments later. "Hey, Everdeen," called Cato. "Why don't you ditch the loser and come sit with me instead."

"Get lost, Cato," said Katniss, not deigning to look over her shoulder at him.

"Aww, come on Everdeen," he said, sitting down directly behind Peeta. Peeta held his tongue as Cato deliberately kicked the back of his chair. "You're so much better than the company you keep, and you'd look so good on my arm. Or… on something else," he smirked, giving one more hard kick to the back of Peeta's seat.

Peeta turned around, fighting to maintain his calm. "She told you to get lost, Cato. I'm going to trust that she doesn't need to say it a second time."

Cato looked around in confusion. "Did anyone else hear that?" he said, straining as if to hear better. "It sounded like a Mudblood pretending to be my equal."

Peeta sat back down in his seat, doing his best to ignore Cato. It was nothing he hadn't heard a thousand times before. However, both Katniss and Ron turned towards Cato, shouting at him for his horrible slur. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a slight movement, as Hermione surreptitiously pulled her wand out of her sleeve and pointed it over her shoulder towards Cato. She whispered a word under her breath, and immediately the chair that Cato was sat on crumpled beneath him, disintegrating into dust.

"What the fuck—?" Cato leapt to his feet. "Which of you did that?" he shouted, while at the same time Hermione whispered, "_Furnunculus," _and suddenly ugly, red boils were sprouting up all over Cato's face. She flourished her wand in a complicated motion just as Cato turned towards her, and shouted, "_Impertabatum!"_

Cato was suddenly silenced. He still appeared to be shouting at them but not a single sound made it to their ears. He reached for his wand and pointed it at Hermione, and at that moment, Peeta, Katniss, and Ron all reached for their wands, pointing them back at Cato.

"Don't!" shouted Hermione. "Just… watch."

Cato's wand cut through the air, and a flash of light came hurtling straight towards Hermione. But after just a couple of feet, it seemed to hit an invisible wall and rebounded, knocking Cato to the ground. His eyes fell closed and he did not stir.

"Is he ok?" Peeta asked, tucking his wand away in his robes.

"Who cares?" said Ron, sitting back down. "That was bloody brilliant, Hermione."

"Thanks," she said, a rosy pink tinge colouring her cheeks.

"What did you do?" asked Katniss.

"It's a variation of the Imperturbable Charm," said Hermione. "It creates a temporary barrier that can't be crossed by anything; people, objects, sound… or weak to mediocre magic. I don't know how long it will last, or how long he'll be knocked out, for that matter…"

Peeta glanced sideways towards Hermione. Her reputation for being bright and talented clearly wasn't unfounded. And Peeta couldn't help but notice the look of pride on Ron's face as the boy said, "It'll hold, Hermione. You cast it."

"That was some pretty incredible spell-casting," agreed Peeta.

"Thank you," said Hermione.

"She's had plenty of practise. We've got Malfoy in our year," explained Ron. "It'd be easier if they just got rid of all the Slytherins, don't you think?"

Peeta felt Katniss tense up and shrink next to him. "No," said Peeta. "I don't."

"Oh, shit…I didn't mean…"

"It's fine," said Katniss tersely.

"No, it's not," said Peeta. "Look, I get it. You've clearly had a problem with this Malfoy guy, just like I've had problems with Cato. But you can't tar everyone with the same brush. There are decent people in Slytherin just as much as there are absolute arseholes in the other houses too. Bloody hell, I'd curse my own leg off before I willingly spend any time with Zacharias Smith."

"Who?"

"He's in third year. Absolute idiot. Believe me, five minutes in his company and you'll no longer be of the opinion that it's just Slytherin that produces dickheads."

Ron snorted loudly. "I'll bear that in mind if I ever have the displeasure of meeting him, cheers."

Immediately, the atmosphere was much clearer, and both Ron and Hermione seemed much more accepting of Katniss. Every now and again, Katniss checked on Cato, who still seemed to be out cold. "You'll have to teach me that spell, Hermione. I think I could make a lot of use of it."

Peeta looked over his shoulder at Cato's prone figure. "Do you think we should move to different seats before he comes round?" he asked.

"It might be a good idea," said Hermione. "I don't know how long the barrier will hold, and he's likely to be really very upset when he wakes up."

"We can go back and sit with my family," suggested Ron. "And it means we'll be closer to Harry—I mean,whoever wins—when they finish."

"Sounds like a plan to me," said Peeta. "If you're sure your family won't mind the intrusion."

"Nah, it's fine. And if you, y'know, want to give my mum your recipe for the cookies, I won't complain."

"I dunno…it's an old family recipe. My mum would kill me if she ever found out I'd given it away. And trust me….she'd find out."

"Hah! Fair enough. And to be honest, my mum would probably kill anyone who dared to suggest they could cook better than her."

"Yeah… I'll keep it to myself then, if you don't mind. I don't fancy my chances against two angry mothers."

With one last glance towards Cato, the four students made their way to the lower stands. At first, when the Weasleys heard that Katniss and Peeta were supporting Cedric rather than Harry, they had been a little stand-offish, although they soon warmed to the newcomers, especially when the family's patriarch had found out that Peeta was Muggleborn. Hermione flashed Peeta an understanding smile. Apparently Mr. Weasley had, over the last four years, already learned all that he could about the Muggle art of dental hygiene, but baking without magic was an entirely new subject to be tapped. He wanted to know absolutely everything he could about the difference between gas ovens and electric ones, electric-powered kitchen appliances, even the art of waiting patiently for dough to rise.

Time with the Weasley family passed pleasantly. The live music and entertainment coupled with the warm, balmy evening, provided a perfect backdrop to the good conversation with a loving family; something that his own home-life was sorely lacking. When Mr. Weasley said that Peeta and Katniss would be welcome to stay with them at some time over the holidays, Peeta was most enthusiastic with his reply.

Without warning, a loud crack rent the air, and at that moment someone appeared in front of the maze's entrance. It was finally over! Relief washed over him that, at long last, his best mate was safe. However, he still felt strangely anxious, and that feeling was amplified when, all of a sudden, someone screamed.

Peeta stood up in his seat in order to try and get a better look. There was more than one figure in front of the maze, and they appeared to be hugging. Peeta could just about make out the blond locks of Cedric, who seemed to be lying down.

The screaming grew louder by degrees. "What the…?" he said.

"Harry…" whispered Ron, and Peeta became aware that the young red-head was barging his way through the crowds to try and get out of the stands and closer to his friend.

But Harry was moving. He was clearly distressed, but he was moving. It was Cedric that Peeta was worried for. His best mate was utterly and unnaturally still. He swallowed heavily, his throat painfully dry, and began to push his way through the thronging crowds. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, and briefly looked back. It was Katniss; fear and worry clouded her eyes and she shook her head very slightly. Peeta shrugged her away and pushed further into the hordes of people.

As he neared the centre of the gasping crowds, he heard a familiar voice, and his heart froze. "My son!" wept the voice, over and over, and it was tinged with the endless sorrow and grief of loss. "My son!"

Time stood still as he drew nearer, and the crowds seemed to part before him.

Cedric was lying on the ground, his eyes open and unseeing. Amos Diggory cradled his son's body in his arms, lamenting his only child's death.

The world no longer seemed real; everything floated past in a dream-like state. Peeta was vaguely aware of Ron's voice, demanding to know of Harry's whereabouts, and Hermione replying that she had seen him with Professor Moody. Peeta swatted the words away like an annoying mosquito. It didn't matter where Harry was. If he was with Moody, he was safe. He was whole. He was alive.

Unlike his best friend. He dropped to his knees, unable to keep himself from staring into Cedric's blank, grey eyes.

He felt a gentle embrace around his shoulders and found himself staring into another pair of grey eyes, and they were kind, worried and very much alive. Katniss pulled Peeta into her shoulder, and held him as he began to shed tears for the loss of his dear friend.

* * *

_**July 2**__**nd**__** 1995**_

The Leaving Feast was usually a cause for celebration. The black drapes that replaced the usual decorations in the Great Hall heralded the sombre mood. None of his class-mates were feeling particularly talkative, and this suited Peeta perfectly. He stayed silent through all three courses, barely touching any of the food that appeared before him.

A hush descended over the already quiet Hall. With a great effort, Peeta lifted his head towards the teacher's table, where Dumbledore stood, waiting for complete silence.

"The end of another year," he said, and his eyes fell upon the Hufflepuff table, lingering on Peeta and the empty space at the table next to him. Peeta looked away, unable to hold the Headmaster's penetrating gaze.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person who should be sitting here, enjoying our Feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

It took all of his effort to stand and raise his glass, and his eyes immediately clouded over. The past week had been nothing but a blur; meaningless condolences from unknown faces, but it was the Headmaster's words that truly shook him. It had taken until now for it to truly sink in; he would never see Cedric again. As everyone else sat back down, he collapsed heavily to his seat, a deep, shuddering breath racking his entire body.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities which distinguish Hufflepuff house. He was a good and loyal friend." —Peeta swallowed another shuddering cry— "a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

Peeta raised his gaze once more towards the Headmaster. There had been a lot of speculation over the past week. Some people had suggested that Cedric had died as a result of his own ineptitude, others that he had been murdered by Harry Potter in a fit of jealousy. Peeta didn't know what to believe, but he didn't want to believe either of those answers.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A wave of cold dread washed over him. He glanced around the Hall at the other students who were all whispering together, looks of abject horror on their faces.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned , or because they think that I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as a result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory. There is someone else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

Another susurration passed around the Hall. Peeta looked straight towards where Potter sat, trying desperately not to make eye contact with the many faces who were trying to catch his gaze.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort," continued Dumbledore, and Peeta dragged his attention back to the teachers' table. "He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for that, I honour him."

Peeta barely heard the rest of Dumbledore's speech. He raised his goblet towards Harry, along with the rest of the school, but was lost in his own thoughts as Dumbledore continued to speak. He Who Must Not Be Named… returned…

He tried to picture the manner of Cedric's death, and found himself retching on the horror of it. All the stories he had heard, and all the histories that he had read regarding the great Wizarding War… they surely could not be about to repeat themselves.

Dumbledore was still talking, and Peeta shifted his attention back to the Headmaster's words. "A week ago a student was taken from our midst. Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

The room raised their goblets once again, and as Dumbledore took his seat, hushed whisperings echoed around the room. The subject of the whispers was all the same; the return of You Know Who. Peeta paid them no mind. Eventually, the Great Hall began to empty, and Peeta became aware of a presence beside him. He looked up to see Katniss, her face full of concern.

"You ok?" Katniss asked.

"Uh-huh," he nodded. "You?"

"Are you really ok?" she asked, sitting beside him and taking his hands in her own.

"I don't know how to answer that without being negative," he admitted, chuckling a humourless laugh.

"Then be honest."

She sat down by his side, and gently squeezed his hands. "No," he said at long last. "No. I'm pretty fucking far from ok."

She stayed silent a while, and Peeta watched, almost detached, as her thumb traced circles over the back of his hand.

"I wish I could say something to help," said Katniss.

Peeta looked up into her stormy eyes. Words never were her strong point. He licked his suddenly dry lips and leaned his forehead against hers, letting out another shuddering breath as he did so. She let go of his hand, and gently wiped the wetness from his cheek with the pad of her thumb. His eyes fell closed as time stood still, and he held his breath with anticipation.

"As touching as this is," came a snide voice, and Katniss immediately pulled away from Peeta, a pink flush tinging her cheeks. Peeta looked up into the twisted face of Professor Snape, who looked more than happy to break them up. "The Feast is over, and as such you both should be heading back to your dormitories."

"Sorry, sir," she breathed, as she stood up and smoothed away the creases from her robes. With one last half-smile towards Peeta, she turned away and walked from the Great Hall.

"You too, Mr Mellark."

He grit his teeth and nodded, not wanting to say anything in case his irritation at the interruption got either himself or Katniss into trouble. Dragging himself to his feet, he took one last look at the seat beside him that had remained empty for the entirety of the feast, and it was with a sense of dread that he left the Great Hall, knowing that his future, and the future of everyone he cared about was far from safe and certain.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - Thank you to Titania522/ct522 for her help in pre-reading and betaing this story. Thanks to JK Rowling and Suzanne Collins for writing such fabulous characters to play with. And thank _you_ for reading. And thank you even more if you also leave a review. Come say hi on tumblr too - my username is alatarielgildaen :)**

**Some of the dialogue comes straight from _Order of the Phoenix_ and is therefore not mine. This is turning more into a retelling of the second war than a straight-up friendship fic... but yeah! Enjoy, nonetheless! **

* * *

_September 1st 1995_

The countryside zoomed past at incredible speed. Peeta didn't try to focus on anything. He merely stared into the middle distance, allowing the green, rolling hills and yellow fields to become one giant blur.

His left temple throbbed particularly painfully, and he tentatively reached up to touch it, flinching as his fingertips grazed over the sensitive flesh. His mother had gotten especially angry at him that morning. She claimed that Peeta had not told them he was heading back to school that day, and that she needed him to work in the bakery. Accusations were hurled at him that he didn't care about the family—that he wanted to see them destitute. She had managed to get one good strike in before Peeta had magically repelled her from him, stormed upstairs to grab his trunk, then Apparated to London.

He hadn't checked his appearance since being hit, but it was pretty obvious that a bruise was showing. "Dammit," he whispered to himself. He'd have to make time to go to Madame Pomfrey before the Feast started, and hoped no-one else noticed before he was able to get hold of some bruise paste.

His last two journeys to Hogwarts had felt a little lonely; with both Katniss and Cedric being made prefect, they'd had their various duties, meaning he'd missed their company at the start of the journey. But he'd still happily sit with his other friends, catching up after summer and discussing the new school year…Then after Katniss and Cedric had made their rounds, they were able to sit and talk and while the time away until the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station.

But this time, it didn't just feel lonely. It felt empty.

Katniss had promised him that she would be as quick as she possibly could, but he didn't want to wait in a carriage with anyone and make small talk. Half of his classmates were too animated and happy, as if they had already forgotten what had happened to Cedric, while the other half couldn't talk about anything else. Peeta had drifted from one group to the other, feeling angry and annoyed at both of them, until he had wandered out into the train corridor, refusing to sit with anyone.

As the world continued to race past outside, Peeta's mind drifted back to his very first journey aboard the Hogwarts Express. He had stuck so closely to Katniss' side, still not really daring to believe that any of this was real. It had taken Katniss reassuring him repeatedly to finally convince him.

The two of them had found an empty carriage, and had shared a bag of cookies that Peeta's father had made them for the journey. It wasn't long until the carriage door had opened, and Cedric had shyly asked to come and sit with them. After only a few minutes he and Cedric were laughing and joking together as if they had known each other their whole lives.

When Katniss was Sorted into Slytherin, Peeta looked over at her table, catching her eye just as the hat came down over his head. His last thought before the hat completely blocked his vision was that he hoped he would go to Slytherin as well. It made him jump when a voice immediately spoke into his ear telling him that he wouldn't fit into Slytherin at all, and that his loyalty, compassion, and work ethic set him aside as an obvious candidate for Hufflepuff. Before he was even able to question the hat's decision, the word, "HUFFLEPUFF!" had echoed around the Great Hall, and Peeta found himself walking up the tables to sit with the other Hufflepuffs. Once again, he caught Katniss' eye, and the two of them gave each other a sad smile.

At that moment, he wondered how he would ever be able to feel at home in this huge castle, but as soon as he sat down next to Cedric, his concerns immediately began to be assuaged, and that night, as they all stayed up into the early hours of the morning feasting on stolen cakes and cookies from the nearby kitchens, he knew he had made a friend for life.

"Hey," said a familiar voice, shaking him from his memories, and Peeta started for a moment. Turning away from the window, he saw Ron heading down the corridor towards him

"Hey," replied Peeta, turning back to stare out of the window. In the reflection, Peeta's attention was immediately caught by the shiny badge taking pride of place on Ron's robes. "Prefect, eh? Congratulations."

"Cheers," grinned Ron. "I still can't believe I got it. I don't think anyone can." He fell silent as he carefully polished the already gleaming badge with the edge of his sleeve. "Erm… how was your summer?"

Peeta's eyes dropped from the window and he gazed at his feet. "Ok, I guess."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean… as ok as it can be when your best mate has been killed. And trying to pretend all summer that nothing's wrong really takes it out of you."

Ron's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if he wanted to say something supportive but could think of nothing.

"I'm sorry," said Peeta with a self-deprecating smile. "I didn't mean to sound like I was fishing for sympathy. How was yours?"

"As ok as it can be when you-know-who's come back and he's sending Dementors after your best mate and no one wants to believe it. I'm erm…I'm sorry you never got that invitation to come over that dad promised you."

"No problem. To be honest, I probably wouldn't have been able to come anyway," he answered with a shrug, thinking about how much time he had spent working in the bakery over summer, both as a distraction for himself, and to diffuse any arguments with his mother. He hadn't told any of his family what had happened at the end of his last school year. His mother had wanted an excuse to be able to pull him out of school since day one, fear and suspicion of anything 'different' masked under the disguise of concern for her youngest son. If she'd known that Peeta's closest friend had been killed on school property she would immediately do anything in her power to stop him returning, and Peeta was unsure what his legal rights would be. At seventeen, he was an adult in the Magical world, but still a minor in the Muggle one, and so to avoid any drama, he had kept his terrible sadness hidden all summer.

"Maybe another time, then," said Ron, and Peeta smiled and nodded. "Maybe," he said, turning towards the young prefect.

Ron's eyes widened immediately. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, nodding towards Peeta's bruised eye.

Peeta felt his cheeks flood with colour. "It's nothing," he mumbled, turning away. "Don't worry about it."

"Bloody hell, mate, it looks painful."

"Honestly, it's nothing—"

"Was it that Cato guy again? Because, well, being a prefect has a few privileges, and—"

"It wasn't him," Peeta interrupted. "But thanks for the offer. I may take you up on it sometime anyway."

Ron nodded slowly and didn't press for any further information. At that moment, Katniss appeared at the end of the train carriage. His heart lightened a little at the sight of her, and she picked up her pace until she was stood by his side.

"I finished my rounds as quickly as I could," she said, and as she gently laid a hand on his arm, Peeta's heart began to pound furiously. "Are you ok? I was worried when I didn't see you on the platform this morning." Before he could answer, she gasped and cupped his face. "Peeta, you can't keep letting her do this to you."

"Let who—?" Ron began, before Peeta interrupted once again.

"I won't. I won't be going back there, anyway. I don't know _where_ I'll go when we leave but… I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." He managed a weak smile and turned back to look out of the window at the passing countryside.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peeta could see Ron shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I should probably be getting back," he said, pointing vaguely over his shoulder. "It's good to see you again," he added, before stalking away down the carriage.

Katniss stood beside him in silence, and he was more than grateful for both her presence, and for the fact that she didn't press him further about his strained relationship with his mother. She merely leant her head against his shoulder, and with a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and imagined a world where he had the courage to sweep her into his arms and pepper her with a thousand kisses.

* * *

_October 5th 1995_

The wind picked up, and Peeta ducked his head against it as it gathered up fallen leaves, whipping them into his face, as he and Katniss walked through the streets of Hogsmeade.

"Do you think it'll be ok for me to come?" asked Katniss, entirely unable to hide the anxiety in her voice.

Peeta found her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Of course it will be," he said. "You're with me." Somehow, he forgot to let go of her hand, and Katniss didn't appear to object. He focused on the warmth generated by the delicate contact, and even dared to trace a small circle on the back of her hand with his thumb. In response, she squeezed his hand even tighter.

It felt so right, so incredibly natural to just be wandering the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade on the clear, crisp day, that for a moment Peeta considered suggesting forgoing this strange, secret meeting, just to spend the whole day alone with her.

But then a series of images flashed through his mind; Umbridge smiling sickeningly over him as she forced him to write lines in his own blood, for daring to suggest that maybe they should be focusing on practical work in preparation for their final exams; his mother telling him he would fail everything and never amount to anything; and finally, Cedric, lying on the ground, the life having forever left his grey eyes. His resolve strengthened, and he picked up the pace a little.

As soon as they entered the bar of the Hog's Head, a memory hit him with the force of an angry Hippogriff. He had only entered the Hog's Head once before—earlier in the year, when his seventeenth birthday happened to fall on a Hogsmeade weekend. He had bought himself and Cedric a bottle of Firewhisky to share, although he had ended up drinking the vast majority himself. Cedric had listened patiently while he drunkenly poured his heart out about his feelings for Katniss, and had almost managed to get him back to Hogwarts without incident. However, just before they reached the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room, Peeta had been violently sick and had been caught by Professor Sprout. He earned himself detention every Saturday for a month.

He shook the memory away and had a look around. No one else that he recognised was in the bar as yet. While Katniss tried to find a seat at a table that was besmirched with the least amount of sticky residue and filth, Peeta went to the bar to order drinks for the pair of them. The grumpy barman looked as though he were going to throw a fit when Peeta ordered a large mug of hot chocolate for Katniss, and a hot cinnamon and vanilla spiced apple juice for himself.

"You want that fancy stuff, get off to the Three Broomsticks," said the barman, spitting sideways onto the dusty floor.

"Ok," said Peeta. "What do you have?"

"If yer at Hogwarts, Butterbeer or Pumpkin Juice. S'up to you."

"Two Butterbeers, then please," he said.

The barman seemed to take great offence to the request, and sighed deeply as he bent down to pick up two of the dustiest bottles Peeta had ever seen. The barman slammed them down on the counter, causing a cloud of dust to fly up into the air. "Four sickles," he demanded, holding his hand out.

Peeta obliged and took the two filthy bottles back to Katniss.

"What a lovely place," she said, wrinkling her nose up as she blew on her bottle, sending hundreds of motes of dust up into the air.

"It certainly has a…rustic…charm to it," added Peeta, as he noticed that the barman was looking over at them in a peevish manner.

At that moment, the door to the bar opened, and in entered Ron, along with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. They walked up to the bar, whispering together in a huddle, and did not seem to have noticed that Peeta and Katniss were sat in the far corner. Indeed, when they got their drinks from the bar, they stalked away to the opposite corner, and continued their conversation in urgent, hushed voices.

"Shall we, then?" said Peeta, indicating the trio with a nod of his head.

Katniss nodded, and the two of them stood up and walked towards the younger students. No sooner had they caught each other's eye, then the door opened again, and in strolled a torrent of people. Peeta recognised most; he noticed the two new Hufflepuff prefects were amongst the crowd, and he groaned inwardly at the sight of Zacharias Smith parading and preening as always.

"What the…" Harry said, his mouth dropping open at the sight of so many people. "Hermione, you said it'd be a couple of people. _A couple of people!"_

"Yes, well, the idea proved quite popular, you see," said Hermione.

Meanwhile, one of the Weasley twins—possibly Fred, although Peeta always had difficulty telling them apart—had ordered twenty-five Butterbeers at the bar. The moody barman looked as though he was ready to throw a punch. It was quite possible he had never done so much work in his life.

While everyone was collecting their drinks, the twin who had ordered at the bar noticed Katniss. "What is this?" he said loudly, pointing towards her. "You know she's in Slytherin, right?"

Harry stood up so fast that he practically knocked his own chair over, and the sound of it scraping against the floor could clearly be heard even above the sudden murmur of dissent from the assembled crowd.

"I'm not doing this, Hermione," he said. "It was a bad idea, I knew it."

"It's not!"pleaded Hermione. "Harry, please, we need to do this!"

"I'm not saying or doing anything while there's a Slytherin spy here."

"I'm not a spy," said Katniss quietly, her cheeks reddening, while Peeta loudly said, "She's with me."

"Fine. Then you can go too."

"I was invited," said Peeta. "Both of us were."

"Harry, it's fine," said Ron. "They're cool."

"She's in _Slytherin,_ Ron!"

"I know, but —"

"I knew I shouldn't have come," said Katniss, pulling her bag over her shoulder.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," said one of twins.

"Shut up, George," said Ron, but Katniss was already on her way.

"Wait." Peeta held on to the top of her arm, stopping her from leaving. He glanced around at the assembled group, all of whom were looking at Katniss with varying degrees of mistrust and loathing. "Look at you all," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You act like she's the enemy, and she's done nothing wrong. Did any of you ever wonder that maybe the mistrust you have for Slytherin is a self-fulfilling prophecy? You assume you're going to hate them, so you treat them like...like _this..._ and then act all wounded when they retaliate!"

"Come off it, Mellark," said George. "We've all seen how Cato Hadley treats you. You gonna stand up for him, too?"

"Cato's a dick. But he'd be a dick whichever house he was in. And he's not a dick _because _of the house he's in. Look. We're here for the same reasons you are. We're not here to cause trouble. And we're not going anywhere. So if any of you have a problem with us, I suggest that _you _be the ones to leave, not us."

A tense silence followed, all eyes drifting between Harry and Peeta, until eventually Harry begrudgingly sat down. Peeta let out a deep breath that he hadn't realised he had been holding in, and also took a seat, gesturing for Katniss to join him.

Taking Harry's lead, the rest of the group gathered around, although Peeta could see that some of them were still eyeing Katniss warily.

Hermione looked incredibly flustered, and began to talk, clearly trying to wash over any tension. "Well—er—hi," she said, a pink glow flushing her cheeks. "Well…erm…well, you know why you're here. Erm…well, Harry here had the idea—I mean—_I _had the idea—that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts—and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us—because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts—well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."

A few people murmured their assent, and she continued. "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells—"

"You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" said a dark-haired boy that Peeta didn't recognise.

"Of course I do," said Hermione. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because…because…" She took a moment to compose herself, taking a deep breath and exhaling before she said, "Because Lord Voldemort is back."

Some people slid sideways off their chairs, while others shrieked. Katniss' hand grabbed the top of Peeta's thigh and squeezed hard. Peeta stared determinedly ahead, while images of Cedric's body flashed before his eyes.

"Well…that's the plan anyway," said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to—"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said Zacharias Smith, and Peeta shot him a glare. Smith was clearly only here to cause trouble.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it—" Hermione began, before Smith interrupted her.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes _him_," he said, indicating Harry with a nod of his head.

"Who are _you?" _demanded Ron.

"Zacharias Smith," he answered, and at that moment Peeta caught Ron's questioning glance, and gave him the briefest of nods.

"Oh," said Ron before Smith was able to continue, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "I've heard of you." The tone in his voice left no doubt as to the fact that what he had heard was entirely negative.

Zacharias looked affronted and seemed to stumble over his words. "Look," he said, regaining a little composure, "I just think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who is back."

"But that's not really what this meeting was supposed to be about…" said Hermione, looking around for support.

"It's OK, Hermione," said Harry, and he looked Zacharias Smith straight in the eye with a blazing fury. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The whole group waited with baited breath, until Smith broke the tension. And the more Smith spoke, the more Peeta's hands balled into fists. "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who, and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered—"

"Shut the fuck up, Smith," said Peeta in a voice of deadly calm. He looked down at his clenched fists, at the scar that still shone on the back of his left hand, a cruel reminder of the detention he had suffered at the hands of the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Peeta had objected to her calling Cedric's death an 'unfortunate accident,' and had paid the price for not toeing the line. "It doesn't matter _how_ he was murdered. And if you'd paid _any_ attention at all in Defence classes last year, you'd probably be able to take an educated guess." He shuddered briefly at the memory of the demonstration Professor Moody had given them; the flash of green light, and the lifeless spider upturned on his desk, which morphed into the vision of Cedric's sightless eyes. He took a deep breath before continuing. "All that matters is that he was. You've read the history books, right? You must have some idea of what it was like when You-Know-Who took over before? Because unless everyone takes a stand, right now, history will repeat itself. And you might be able to hide behind your Pureblood status and your alleged ancestry, but I can't. If he makes it back to full power, he's coming for people like me first. And if Harry has survived encounters with You-Know-Who, well, he's the person I want on my side, teaching me how."

Following his speech, the silence in the bar seemed to thrum. He looked up and caught Ron's eye, and the boy gave him an encouraging half-smile. Smith shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and became very interested in his own feet. Even the moody barman seemed to be listening to their conversation. Eventually the atmosphere was broken by a girl with a thick plait down her back. She looked Harry in the eyes and said, "Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?"

"Yeah," said Harry, looking both confused and a little defensive.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Er—you don't know Madam Bones, do you?"

"She's my auntie," smiled the girl. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me all about your hearing. So—is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," repeated Harry.

"Blimey, Harry," said a boy that Peeta recognised as the Quidditch commentator, "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said one of the twins. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, and a few people laughed, which paved the way for others to ask Harry about his achievements. Despite the many incredible feats that Harry had performed, he remained completely humble about every single one.

However, one person remained entirely unimpressed. When Harry was trying to explain that he had help with everything, Zacharias Smith loudly said, "Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?"

Both Ron and Peeta spoke at once. "Here's an idea, why don't you shut your mouth?" spat Ron, while at the same time, Peeta said, "I swear to god, Smith, one more outburst from you and I won't need a wand to make you sorry."

"I'm not…" he sputtered. "It's just that… We turned up to learn this from him, and now he's telling us that he can't really do it!"

Peeta clenched his fists hard to stop himself from throwing a punch, while at the same time, the two Weasley twins leapt to Harry's defence. Peeta stared into the distance, a terrible mix of anger and fear rising up within him. He barely heard the rest of the conversation as his mind raced. He didn't know why he truly believed that a boy two years his junior would be able to teach him more about survival than seven different fully qualified wizards had. But the pessimistic part of himself, the side that he kept hidden from the world, was convinced that if You-Know-Who truly came back to power, then his days were numbered.

He was vaguely aware of Katniss reaching for his hand and as he closed his eyes, he entwined his fingers with hers. Nothing in the world was more important than being able to protect her, being able to protect the future he so desperately wanted with her. There were many voices of protest when Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill from her bag, and said, "I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to." Peeta, however, was one of the first to eagerly sign his name.

Slowly, in twos and threes, the pub began to empty, but Peeta remained rooted firmly to the spot, lost in his thoughts.

Eventually he heard a familiar voice say, "Cheers for that."

He looked up into the face of Ron Weasley. "For what?" he asked

"That speech you gave," he said, and he looked over his shoulder to where Harry and Hermione were hovering in the doorway. "I think you really helped. I mean…" He looked nervously at his waiting friends once more and dropped his voice to barely above a whisper. "I think you might have… you know… diffused a situation. And you probably helped convince some of the others too."

"Peeta's always had a way with words," said Katniss.

"Yeah, well, like I said, it really helped. And you're right. That Zacharias bloke is a right old wart."

"I'm just sorry he overheard when Hermione approached our table," said Peeta.

Ron shrugged. "S'hardly your fault. As long as he keeps his trap shut we'll be fine."

"Oh, he will," replied Peeta, smiling grimly. "I'll make sure of that."

"I'm...umm...I'm sorry about my brothers," he added, looking more towards Katniss. "And Harry, too. They're not always like that."

Katniss made a quiet _hmph_, and Peeta couldn't help but smile. Unbeknownst to Ron, it was the closest thing to an articulate response that the lad could hope for when Katniss was feeling particularly closed.

Ron glanced over his shoulder once more. "I should probably be going," he said. "We'll let you know as soon as we've got a date for the first meeting, ok?"

"Cheers. And thank you."

"For what?" asked Ron.

"For including me in this. Really means a lot to me."

Ron nodded and gave a half-smile before turning back to his friends, and exiting to the streets of Hogsmeade.

"We'll be ok, you know," said Katniss after a moment's silence.

"Huh?"

"Just... I wanted you to know that we'll be ok. You and me."

He turned to her and studied her earnest expression. Gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he said, "You and me. We'll be ok."


End file.
